While I'm already being too honest and on a roll with my oversharing...
Nine months and my entire second pregnancy of six weeks away, two weeks home.
A year of four weeks on, two weeks off . (The "best" year of this job.)
Nine weeks of "Oh you're coming back in a week. No, never mind. Ok you're coming back in two weeks. No, never mind..."
Eight months of anywhere from four to six weeks on, averaging one week off. No consistent schedule.
Alternating between gratefulness for the opportunity and the ability to move our family back to Alaska, and (probably irrational) pure hatred of the slope, everything it stood for, and what I felt "it" was doing to our family. But I knew, deep down, it wasn't doing anything to our family. Maybe some families are strong enough for that lifestyle. In fact, I know a lot of thriving slope families. Our was not one of them.
For everyone who thinks that the money is "so good" on the slope, I have a couple thoughts for you. First off, he isn't paid when he's home. The normal 2/2 schedule averages out to similar to what one would make during a 40 hour work week at home. In addition, that "extra" money? It goes to a babysitter so I can have a "break" once every 6 weeks, or have completely unheard of one on one time with one kid. It goes to someone to plow our driveway while I'm pregnant and alone with a toddler. It went to a kid or lawn service to mow our lawn because I couldn't figure out how to mow the lawn while both kids were awake (and it woke them up if I tried while they were asleep.) It went to an expensive gym membership with extra childcare fees. It went to therapy. It went to cable, which we used to not have, but I decided it was a necessary evil during the long dark evenings during the winter months. It paid for smart phones with the ability to FaceTime, which we didn't have until this job started but suddenly felt necessary. Yes, these are all luxuries I'm grateful for and most people don't have, but please don't assume we were ever rolling in the dough.
Even if we were, would it have been worth frequent panic attacks over the responsibility of parenting two kids alone 80% of the time?
Was it worth the damage that anxiety did to our marriage, before I learned how to channel it outside of him?
Was it worth the fighting between every family member during every transition? Because when he came home, we were all torn between being happy about being back together and having no sense of consistency, unity, or communication anymore?
Is it worth having to receive a call that your daughter was in an ambulance and you were 800 miles away and had no way to help?
Is it worth the unhealthy influence of some of the people and the atmosphere up there, and the dishonesty and mistrust that resulted from that?
Was it worth worrying if our kids were going to have to look elsewhere for a father figure they wanted and technically had, but really didn't?
Would the money have paid for the divorce attorneys?
Do you think it's worth the magnifying glass on every single issue you, your partner, and your marriage ever had?
Was it worth hearing myself nag, over and over, to try and find a job in town? I know what I sounded like, and I didn't care. Was it worth the resentment building in him because I didn't fully appreciate the position he was in?
Is the money worth the bitterness that continued to grow, and still lingers, inside each of us for not understanding or appreciating the other's sacrifice(s)?
Someone recently said to me "an electrician on the slope! No wonder you're a stay at home mom. An electrician makes enough money but on the slope...dang!" I KNOW, without a doubt, how blessed I am to be able to stay at home with my kids. Don't think I don't appreciate that for a second. But I couldn't get a job if I wanted to - the guilt. The never ending mom guilt, we all know it. Mine just presents itself in this way...if my kids are already missing one parent, I'm not going to leave them for 40 hours/week if I don't absolutely have to because they deserve the other parent to be with them. One consistent family member. They don't have grandparents nearby, they don't have cousins or aunts and uncles less than thousands of miles away. They need me. All of the time. All.of.the.time.
Did I mention the fucking panic attacks?
I know how lucky we are and were. I know how much better off we have it than most families, and how easy I have it compared to single parents, military families, people living in poverty. I know, and I thank God every day for our blessings...but you can go ahead and add that into the guilt for every horrible feeling I had too. You shouldn't feel bad. This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted. You have everything you ever wanted, my thoughts told me, and you're ungrateful.
On December 10, 2015 he came home early from the slope and I told him "You can't go back. You can't. If you go back, one of two things is going to happen - I'm either going to check myself into a psych ward or we are getting a divorce. Maybe both." I was not threatening him, and I think he knows that. I had reached my limit and I was telling him what I knew to be true. What almost happened at the end of 2014 and all the way through most of 2015.
On December 12, 2015 he got a call that he was laid off. I told someone recently that it was hard to feel happy about a layoff but that was essentially how I felt. It was scary, but it was time. He had to find something in town now. Had to.
Today is day two of his electrician job in Anchorage. It is not perfect, but it is a job. In town. The wage? Almost laughable right now. The insurance? Double the high rate we were already paying. But yesterday he left right before the kids woke up and was home in time for me to make dinner with minimal clinging to my legs (by the kids, not him so much.;)) We played a family game of Doc McStuffins dominoes, more than once. He bathed them while I sat on my butt playing on my phone. He put one of them to bed while I put the other to bed. And today, when I told the girls that their daddy was going to work, they didn't cry. He'd be home for dinner.
A year of four weeks on, two weeks off . (The "best" year of this job.)
Nine weeks of "Oh you're coming back in a week. No, never mind. Ok you're coming back in two weeks. No, never mind..."
Eight months of anywhere from four to six weeks on, averaging one week off. No consistent schedule.
Alternating between gratefulness for the opportunity and the ability to move our family back to Alaska, and (probably irrational) pure hatred of the slope, everything it stood for, and what I felt "it" was doing to our family. But I knew, deep down, it wasn't doing anything to our family. Maybe some families are strong enough for that lifestyle. In fact, I know a lot of thriving slope families. Our was not one of them.
For everyone who thinks that the money is "so good" on the slope, I have a couple thoughts for you. First off, he isn't paid when he's home. The normal 2/2 schedule averages out to similar to what one would make during a 40 hour work week at home. In addition, that "extra" money? It goes to a babysitter so I can have a "break" once every 6 weeks, or have completely unheard of one on one time with one kid. It goes to someone to plow our driveway while I'm pregnant and alone with a toddler. It went to a kid or lawn service to mow our lawn because I couldn't figure out how to mow the lawn while both kids were awake (and it woke them up if I tried while they were asleep.) It went to an expensive gym membership with extra childcare fees. It went to therapy. It went to cable, which we used to not have, but I decided it was a necessary evil during the long dark evenings during the winter months. It paid for smart phones with the ability to FaceTime, which we didn't have until this job started but suddenly felt necessary. Yes, these are all luxuries I'm grateful for and most people don't have, but please don't assume we were ever rolling in the dough.
Even if we were, would it have been worth frequent panic attacks over the responsibility of parenting two kids alone 80% of the time?
Was it worth the damage that anxiety did to our marriage, before I learned how to channel it outside of him?
Was it worth the fighting between every family member during every transition? Because when he came home, we were all torn between being happy about being back together and having no sense of consistency, unity, or communication anymore?
Is it worth having to receive a call that your daughter was in an ambulance and you were 800 miles away and had no way to help?
Is it worth the unhealthy influence of some of the people and the atmosphere up there, and the dishonesty and mistrust that resulted from that?
Was it worth worrying if our kids were going to have to look elsewhere for a father figure they wanted and technically had, but really didn't?
Would the money have paid for the divorce attorneys?
Do you think it's worth the magnifying glass on every single issue you, your partner, and your marriage ever had?
Was it worth hearing myself nag, over and over, to try and find a job in town? I know what I sounded like, and I didn't care. Was it worth the resentment building in him because I didn't fully appreciate the position he was in?
Is the money worth the bitterness that continued to grow, and still lingers, inside each of us for not understanding or appreciating the other's sacrifice(s)?
Someone recently said to me "an electrician on the slope! No wonder you're a stay at home mom. An electrician makes enough money but on the slope...dang!" I KNOW, without a doubt, how blessed I am to be able to stay at home with my kids. Don't think I don't appreciate that for a second. But I couldn't get a job if I wanted to - the guilt. The never ending mom guilt, we all know it. Mine just presents itself in this way...if my kids are already missing one parent, I'm not going to leave them for 40 hours/week if I don't absolutely have to because they deserve the other parent to be with them. One consistent family member. They don't have grandparents nearby, they don't have cousins or aunts and uncles less than thousands of miles away. They need me. All of the time. All.of.the.time.
Did I mention the fucking panic attacks?
I know how lucky we are and were. I know how much better off we have it than most families, and how easy I have it compared to single parents, military families, people living in poverty. I know, and I thank God every day for our blessings...but you can go ahead and add that into the guilt for every horrible feeling I had too. You shouldn't feel bad. This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted. You have everything you ever wanted, my thoughts told me, and you're ungrateful.
On December 10, 2015 he came home early from the slope and I told him "You can't go back. You can't. If you go back, one of two things is going to happen - I'm either going to check myself into a psych ward or we are getting a divorce. Maybe both." I was not threatening him, and I think he knows that. I had reached my limit and I was telling him what I knew to be true. What almost happened at the end of 2014 and all the way through most of 2015.
On December 12, 2015 he got a call that he was laid off. I told someone recently that it was hard to feel happy about a layoff but that was essentially how I felt. It was scary, but it was time. He had to find something in town now. Had to.
Today is day two of his electrician job in Anchorage. It is not perfect, but it is a job. In town. The wage? Almost laughable right now. The insurance? Double the high rate we were already paying. But yesterday he left right before the kids woke up and was home in time for me to make dinner with minimal clinging to my legs (by the kids, not him so much.;)) We played a family game of Doc McStuffins dominoes, more than once. He bathed them while I sat on my butt playing on my phone. He put one of them to bed while I put the other to bed. And today, when I told the girls that their daddy was going to work, they didn't cry. He'd be home for dinner.
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